


What We Make of It

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is not supposed to feel this way. He is not supposed to feel at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Make of It

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2012 when I was eighteen. I'm now crossposting it here along with all of my other work.

In the beginning…

That's often how it starts, isn't it? It either starts with that or 'once upon a time.' At least, that's what he's garnered from his research.

In the beginning, he didn't bother with any of them. He checked up on their readings once a day to ensure that everything was normal. He spared Vickers a hateful glance once or twice, but that was it. He had spent whatever time was not occupied with caring for Mr. Weyland in studying everything he could, including human society.

It was all merely idle curiosity, coupled with the need to know everything about the masters he is serving in order to do his job properly. He doesn't plan for it to evolve beyond that.

But it does.

It does when he moves from ignorance to understanding. Familiarity breeds contempt, as the saying goes, and it rings true for him. He cannot help but feel greater than his masters. He has superior knowledge. He is infinitely more logical, intellectual, balanced, and in control of himself than they are. He despises Weyland for his obsessive quest for immortality, and for constantly reminding David that he is not human. He despises Weyland's bitch of a daughter Vickers a little more. If he had a choice, he would definitely prefer that she suffer a horrible tragedy. She is jealous of the praise that he receives from her father, and frustrated with the fact that no matter how hard she tries, Weyland simply fails to be impressed.

He might find it in him to sympathize, or at least be less inclined to loathe her, if she wasn't richly deserving of Weyland's behavior. Of course, she got to be such an icy, heartless woman because of her father's attitude, so it's really all just a vicious circle that never ends.

Now, the dream watching was an honest accident. He was checking up on the crew's vitals, per usual, and when he got to the pod of one of them and touched the glass, he was hit with a sudden flash of vision. He blinked, and the scene vanished. It took him a second to realize that in reading her vitals, which included her emotional and mental state of being, that he must have seen her dream. She was dreaming so deeply that she was practically projecting it at him.

Oh dear.

Well, that's a sign of deep emotional upheaval, isn't it? Although he isn't sure if it was positive or negative. But even he can admit that it is nothing other than curiosity that drives him to watch her dream. He can make no pretense at fear for her well-being. He simply has to know.

It must be that moment that he starts to understand the concept of 'want,' even if he does not realize it.

Every day after that, he watches the woman's dreams. It's Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, one of the two scientists that had started this entire expedition. He had heard about her and her partner (and boyfriend) from Weyland, but he's never met her in person. He learns so much about her from those dreams. He learns about her father's death from Ebola, which sparked in her a fear of disease that she can't stamp down no matter how hard she tries. She has an unshakeable faith in God. She is infertile, which despite mankind's many medical advances was still impossible to cure. She loves the ocean. She is compassionate. She is a survivor. She wants to know the truth, but she will not put her quest for answers above what she thinks is right, or above those that she cares about. She loves her partner (she calls him Charlie) but dislikes his lack of religion and worries about his reckless nature.

She fascinates him.

But other than that one indiscretion he follows protocol, studying ancient languages as well as other things. He takes care of the ship and sends out the message detailing that they come in peace and showcasing parts of their culture. In short, he does everything that he is supposed to do, and he does it well.

* * *

He doesn't realize how much he misses the silence, the solitude, until they all wake up. Things are still a little subdued--they've just woken up from two years of a coma, after all--but there's talk and movement and he's back to being a robot again. Back to being soulless and subject to their whims. Back to being a servant, less than they are.

Once, he genuinely wouldn't have minded it. But he's had a taste of freedom, of being allowed to simply be himself (whoever that is) and he misses it. He has begun to grow independent--perhaps, even, to defy his programming, at least where his personal needs are concerned, but now he's lost any opportunity that he had. It irks him, to say the least.

Vickers is exactly the same. It would take more than two years of sleep to melt that block of ice. Dr. Holloway quickly gets under his skin, never allowing him to forget what he is. The others are as expected. He musters a bit of respect for Janek, but everyone else is merely another face, another dull personality.

Except, that is, for Dr. Shaw.

He is surprised with how gentle she is. There is fierceness to her, but she is genuinely kind and tender. And she never speaks to him as though he is a lesser being. It is as if he is a human servant, rather than a mechanical slave, and while few people would understand the distinction, it makes all of the difference in the world. To her, he is a part of the team, and she treats him with just as much respect as she shows towards everyone else.

When they sit down in the auditorium to see Weyland's message and learn about their mission from Holloway and Shaw, he sits in the front row to help with the projector. This means that he cannot avoid the looks when his master declares that he has no soul.

It cuts him so deeply he can't even feel it.

He feels anger bubble up inside of him, and he is startled by how bitter he feels. Weyland has never been a model parent, so to speak, but he has never so before dismissed him so blatantly. He was created from the DNA of Weyland and his daughter. He even looks like her brother. Instead of people assuming that he is human, however, they assume that Meredith is an android. He finds that amusing. He is Weyland's son in every sense--except the traditional. And apparently, if that is missing, none of the rest matters.

He understands why Vickers hates her father. He thinks that he might be starting to hate him as well.

* * *

 

In the pyramid, he investigates apart from the others. He knows that the hologram unnerves them, as well as the fact that he did it without their permission. Elizabeth is the only one not harping on that, because she is too fascinated with the dead alien to care about whether he did or did not follow orders. In his mind, he knew what to do and therefore took care of things. Is it not his job, his very purpose, to serve people to the best of his abilities?

It is the curiosity thing again. He really has to take care of that. It might get out of hand if he's not careful.

But then he sees something oozing out of a vase and he has to get a closer look. He has to  _know_. These creatures, these 'Engineers' as Elizabeth calls them, were superior to humans. The creators are always superior to their creations. Even though humans as individuals might be less than he, the greater collective are better.

He does not recognize his bitter feelings as jealousy.

As he examines the… well, it can really be best described as black goo, he ponders what he should do with it. On one hand, they are in alien territory (literally). This could be anything. On the other hand, his creator made his objection quite clear. He must learn anything and everything about these creatures in order to extend Weyland's life. That, of course, includes the effect of everything on humans.

He runs through the possible uses for this 'goo' and finally comes to the conclusion that it is a biological substance of some kind, and that, judging by its recognizable properties, the only way to properly tell what it is for is to have a human digest it.

Well, that isn't going to be easy.

He gathers up the stuff anyway. Better to have it and never use it than to leave it and have an opportunity arise that he must miss out on.

* * *

When he saw Shaw's dedication to her work, he never realized just how deep her love for it went. That is, not until he sees her run into a blinding storm to grab the alien head that's somehow slipped off the rover. Dr. Holloway goes after her immediately but he doesn't think first and ends up just as trapped as she is.

There is a churning in his belly. It's like a kind of… stabbing feeling, only it tingles. He has no idea what it is. It doesn't match anything in his database. All he knows is that he must get to Shaw, the one person who has shown him respect. She really was a bit of an idiot, but he will excuse her. She is human, and humans tend to let their passions rule them.

He quickly attaches his suit to a cable and goes out into the storm. Dr. Holloway is yelling at Shaw, telling her to hang on, that it will be okay. David reaches down and hooks them to him. He uses the strength that his robotic body gives him and carefully leads them back to the safety of the ship.

When they are in the doorway, Dr. Holloway immediately looks down at his body, as though something might have gone missing without his knowing it. But Shaw looks straight at David, her eyes shining. He recognizes the emotion in them as gratitude. She is silently thanking him. He feels a rush of gratitude as well--gratitude that she is safe.

Although, Dr. Holloway is kind enough to disrupt the moment, pushing past and rebuffing Elizabeth for her actions. He's only scared for her, though. David can tell.

That is the moment that David makes the switch from  _Shaw_  to  _Elizabeth_. That is also the moment he decides he will use Dr. Holloway as his test subject.

* * *

He is a little taken aback when Vickers kills Dr. Holloway like that. He senses that she is surprised at herself, horrified at having to go through with her promise. But she covers it up quickly, her face sliding back and freezing in its customary icy expression. Her father would be proud. Or, given his track record, maybe not.

But Vickers is only barely noticed by him, because he's too busy focusing on Elizabeth. She's screaming, pinned to the ground by other crewmembers as they try to keep her from her burning partner.

Her screams sink into his synthetic skin, and he suddenly has to fight the urge to go over and hold her. Instead, he grabs one of the emergency medical kits, pulls out a syringe, and strides over to her. One minute later and she is unconscious on the ground.

He does his best not to feel guilty.

These new emotions, begun when he was alone on the ship for two years, have escalated, snowballing until they have become their own force within him. It should not be unexpected. He was created to be as humanlike as possible, and with a brain like his it would only be a matter of time before the connections would be made and he began to feel.

Now he is assaulted by about a half a dozen of them at once. Sympathy for Elizabeth's plight, jealousy over her connection with Dr. Holloway, curiosity as to what exactly happened to the now-dead doctor… so many emotions. No wonder humans were befuddled half the time. How could one possibly think?

He spies the necklace she always wears, the cross taunting him. She loves her God. Believes in Him. Her faith confuses him. He does not understand it, and that upsets him. He has realized that he hates it when he does not understand something.

She's weak, dazed and grieving, so she makes few complaints when he takes the cross from her. He wonders what will happen. Will she lose her faith upon losing the object? Will she lose her identity? She is, after all, lying next to naked on the examination table. She is just like any other human, now.

He decides that she needs to rest, work the edge off of her grief so that she does not become hysterical or rash in her decisions. But when he glances at the monitor as he turns away, he sees something that both piques his curiosity and makes that tingling stabbing feeling return. This time he recognizes the sensation.

It's fear.

He suddenly wishes that this were happening to anyone but Elizabeth, anyone but the compassionate, intelligent woman who treats him like he's something worthwhile. He wishes that it were Vickers. Perhaps he should have poisoned Janek.

He cannot believe that his mind just made a joke. And at such a time as this.

As before, his mechanical mind ticks through the options available. This child is clearly not human, and will pose a danger to Elizabeth.

"I want it out!" She protests, horrified when she wrests the screen from his hands to where she can see it.

"I'm afraid that we do not have the proper facilities for such an operation," David explains. He is truly sorry for this, but he can think of no other way to keep her safe. "We will place you back into cryo. That should keep things under control until we can return to Earth–"

She cuts him off. "I want it out!" She cries. She clutches at her stomach--not in pain, but as if she can feel the fluttering of life. If she is already the equivalent of what three months pregnant with a human child would be, having only had sex with Dr. Holloway last night (it's the only time she could have done it), then who knows how far along she'll be in the next few hours. He has to get her to sleep,  _now_. He has to stop any further development.

He reaches out to her, grabs her gently, holding her. He feels that strange want again, another product of these new emotions. He wants to pull her closer and make her feel safe.

But duty compels him and instead he knocks her out again. As the medical team comes in to prepare her, he leaves with her cross at his belt. He does not allow himself the luxury of looking back at her.

* * *

When Elizabeth enters the room, covered in her own sweat, blood and guts, he can hardly contain his surprise. She is not only awake and alive but also free of the creature inside of her. He sees the hastily stapled-up gash in her stomach, and realizes what she did. The clever woman managed to fight off drugs and doctors, make her way to the opposite end of the ship, and use a machine designed for men to give herself a Cesarean section.

His respect for her doubles.

Upon seeing Weyland, decrepit but alive, she sinks into a nearby chair in shock. David leaves his "father" to go to her, wrapping a coat around her. It's not much, but it's all that he can do for now. Again, he feels the need to hold her close. He dismisses it, but not as easily as before. Now that Weyland is awake he feels both freer and more confined. He no longer has to carry out his experiments on his own, fulfilling his master's wishes. But at the same time, he now has to do every little thing that Weyland says.

He is reminded of the human phrase: "You win some, you lose some."

He wonders if he has also lost Elizabeth's trust.

That idea hurts.

Judging by the way she ignores him, and her stiff posture despite her muted  _thank you_ , she is most likely angry with him. Perhaps she suspects his less-than-benevolent feelings towards her dead lover, or perhaps she feels his need to put her into cyro was to do her harm. Again, he feels the strange want, this desire to comfort her, flow through him. He backs away before he does something illogical.

Weyland isn't even questioning Elizabeth. He is so determined, so blind in his ambition to thwart death that her words don't even seem to register. Not even when she cries out, her voice choked and broken:

"We were so wrong."

She sounds like she has lost faith in her work. Perhaps even in herself. David cannot bear to look at her.

Not looking at her cannot erase her from his mind, however. In preparing Weyland, throughout the exchange between father and daughter so cold that it burns, all that he can think of is how Elizabeth must feel. When she joins them, determined despite her obviously ill condition (he automatically catalogues her issues and concludes she needs to be properly sewn up, given a hearty dose of various drugs, water and at least two hours' rest), his respect for her reaches such a height that he did not think was possible. Against all odds and common sense, she is going out. And not because of personal gain, the way Weyland is. She is going because she needs answers. She wants to understand, to know, and perhaps to help. He briefly wonders if he will ever cease to be surprised by this woman. He can decipher every human, pick them apart and recognize their needs, wants, and even predict their actions. He cannot do any of that with her. It fascinates him.

Perhaps that is why he has been doing these things--testing her, trying to make her break. The fact that he cannot determine the why of his actions is concerning.

But then, after all that he has done to her, Elizabeth speaks to him. She has the same softness in her voice, the same sense of equality that he cannot get enough of. She still looks at him as though he were her equal. One that she cannot trust, it is true, but not a slave or a machine.

He has to lie about the concept of  _want_. It is the first time he has ever lied. But he isn't, not really, because while he is beginning to feel these things he cannot identify or control them. He almost wants to approach her for help in dealing with these things. They are taking over his life, complicating things, making him second-guess everything. He wants revenge for his treatment. He wants respect. He wants… so many things. He is not sure, he just knows that he wants.

"I don't know. Doesn't everyone want their parents dead?" It's as close to a confession as he can get right now, what with these new emotions roiling and knotting up inside of him.

He has forgotten about Elizabeth's father until the moment the words leave his mouth. He cannot take them back, but he wants to. There it is: that  _want_  again.

"I didn't," she replies, anger and sadness lacing every syllable. She seems angry that he does not understand her plight.

He wonders, if her father had lived, if she would have come to change her views and resent him as so many adults do. But this is Elizabeth Shaw, the woman who continues to surprise and astonish him, and he would not be startled if she were to worship her father even if Ebola had not struck him down.

* * *

There are two requests. Two desperate pleas. One is an order, something that he has been taught to obey no matter what the consequences. The other is a cry, an attempt to bridge the gap of time and space and philosophy, a quest for answers and perhaps apology and salvation.

"Why did you try to destroy us?" Elizabeth is speaking directly to the alien, tears streaming down her face in great rivers. There is snot mixed in there as well, and her eyes are half-shut with the force of liquid gushing out of them. She is being torn apart from the inside. "What did we do wrong?"

David wants to say that Weyland ordering her to be kicked in the stomach was probably a prime example of what humans have done wrong, but he keeps his mouth shut. Weyland repeats his message and waits for David to translate it.

He has a choice. Neither the doctor nor the CEO have any idea what he says. He could say whatever he wanted, and they would never know. He can obey his father's orders, just as he has been programmed, or he can relay Elizabeth's message.

This time, he is torn between two  _wants_.

He wants to give Elizabeth's message to the Engineer. He wants to give her this, to validate her, give her the answers she so craves. She wants to help, to heal, and he wants to help her in her quest.

He wants to destroy Weyland. He is a child, petulant and angry with his parent, and he wants him gone. Dead. Forever. If he gives Weyland's message to the Engineer, then the aging man's death is all but certain.

He makes his decision. Shaw is near the door. She will make it out in time.

He gives the alien Weyland's message.

The Engineer puts his hand on David's head, and for a moment, he thinks that he himself might be spared as the go-between. But then the hands shift, and he knows that even if he doesn't die--that would be an extremely difficult feat--he will still need a lot of repairs.

The cries and gasps of despair fill his ears, and he hears but does not feel his body crumple to the floor with a thud. All of his sensors connect to his head, just like a human brain, and as his head has been removed from his neck he can no longer connect to them, no longer feel. But he can still talk, see and hear. He is still connected to the helmet radios. So he hears Elizabeth's frantic breathing and she makes a break for the door and succeeds in reaching in, dashing back towards Prometheus. He sees the others fall, and feels a wave of vicious triumph engulf him as his father crashes to the floor beside him.

"There is nothing." The old man pushes out the words on his last breath.

"I know," David replies. His voice is, he hopes, as calm as ever.

If his head was attached to his body, he is certain that his hands would be shaking with excitement and revenge.

* * *

The Engineer has not realized that David is still sentient, still, in a twisted way, alive. He has most likely not realized David's true nature. These creatures might not have ever created robots. Who would, when you can create a whole new live creature instead of the metal imitation?

The tall alien seats himself at the controls and begins to press buttons. David quietly memorizes the patterns and pieces for later as he feels the craft shudder and begin to take off. He expects his head and body, as well as the corpses, to slide around but the takeoff is so smooth that they barely shift. He hears Elizabeth shouting through the radio, but by the time he registers it and listens, she has stopped speaking.

Then there's a teeth-clacking jolt and everything tilts sharply, the front end of the gigantic ship blown to bits as the  _Prometheus_  slams into it. David immediately knows what happened. Janek. Perhaps one or two other crewmen, but it was most assuredly Janek who did this.

Elizabeth must have given him the idea. It has her name all over it, but not in a bad way. She can't possibly have gotten back onto the ship in time, so she must either be on the alien craft (not likely) or on the ground. She's probably trying to get out of the path of the downed vessels right now.

The ship tilts and then thuds, painfully, onto the ground. The curve of the structure makes it continue to move, roll along the ground as more parts of it crash into the cold, hard earth. He can hear furious panting as Elizabeth runs, trying to get out of the path of the ship. Her breathing is rather strange, and he suddenly realizes that it's two people he's hearing--two thudding hearts, two sets of hardworking lungs, two panicked sets of tiny cries. The other one is also a woman, judging by the pitch of her gasps.

There's a cry and a thud, then the sound of crunching gravel. It's Elizabeth, he can tell, and she's obviously fallen. He wants to be there, to pull her to safety, but he can't and it's all he can do to not call out as she rolls out of the way. A moment later there's another scream, this time from the other woman.

It's Vickers.

She screams, the word 'no' filled with both fear and sheer frustration at her entire situation, like a part of her sees this as a business meeting gone wrong. Then there is the most awful sound he's ever heard, and even though he is not human he knows that if his head were attached to his body his stomach would be heaving. He does his best not to imagine the visual. Whatever hatred he may harbor for Meredith, he would have preferred a much less messy death than that.

After that, there is silence. He cannot tell if Elizabeth is safe or not, because he cannot hear anything. If she is breathing, then it is not longer frenzied and too quiet for him to pick up. He cannot check her vitals without his body. He is not connected to the computer that is in turn connected to her suit, which monitors her heart rate and other such things.

The Engineer picks himself up off the floor. David had not even realized that the creature had fallen out of his chair. The alien presses a few buttons on the console, and then nods as if he has just confirmed a theory. He begins to make his way out of the ship.

David feels that stab of fear again. With his body missing, it is in his mind instead, a flood of cold water rushing in and scrambling his circuits (metaphorically speaking).

He clears his throat to acquaint Elizabeth with his presence. There is no answer, but he thinks he hears the sound of a zipper and something dropping to the ground. It is most likely her helmet. He hopes that she is not taking off her suit.

"Elizabeth."

He can almost sense her body freezing.

"David?" There is shock, and a little bit of mistrust, but also a tinge of relief. Not relief for him--he does not doubt that she hates him by now. It is relief that she is not alone. She must have heard, or at least guess, what happened to Vickers. With all the horror that she has already experienced, he would not be surprised if she were to just give up upon hearing his next words.

"You have to get out," he speaks quickly. The Engineer is nothing short of monstrous in height, and if his long, heavy strides as he left the control room were anything to go by, he must have already made it to  _Prometheus_. "The Engineer, he's coming–"

There is a cry from Elizabeth, and he knows that he is too late. He shuts his eyes, as though it is happening right in front of him. But then something unexpected happens.

There is the sound of Elizabeth's fearful panting, and then a hoarse, angry, desperate cry.

"Die!" She shrieks.

There is garbled noise, and a sucking sound, and what is clearly flailing, and above it all the exhausted, heaving breaths of Elizabeth as she crawls or stumbles or runs away from whatever is going on. David has no idea what she did, but it must have worked, because the sounds of struggling and frantic despondency emanating from behind Elizabeth mean that the alien has met its match.

A moment later, he dares to speak to her again.

"Elizabeth?" He asks.

There is a burst of static, and he realizes that it is her breathing heavily into her helmet. "Yes?" She replies. She would sound impatient if her voice wasn't so obviously tired.

If he was connected to his artificial lungs, he would breath a sigh of relief. "I feared you were dead," he admits. She has no idea what a confession this is for him, his admission of feelings.

She gives a short, wheezing chuckle. It is bitter. "You have no idea what fear is," she assures him, anger and despair and weariness all soaking the words like poisonous honey.

He tries to reassure her, but Elizabeth is having none of it. She is finished.

That feeling of  _want_  returns, so strong that he cannot deny it. He wants her to live.

"There are other ships."

He's not sure why he says it, but the minute the words pass his lips he knows that it's true. There are others. The formation of the other mountains, for example, all match the one that held the ship. There are unexplored tunnels that clearly lead away from the ship. There are other signs, too, but he won't get into them. It's the change in her breathing that he's paying attention to, the way it picks up for a moment and then slows down to a steady, normal rhythm, not the labored, slow breaths she was taking before.

A minute and thirty-four seconds passes before he hears the sound of her boots as they quietly make their way down the corridor. When she appears in the room, she says nothing, barely looking at him before going to retrieve his body and hoist it onto her back fireman-style with the help of a cable. She leaves the room just as quietly as she came, returning a minute later to retrieve his head. She still doesn't speak to him, but she cradles him gently, carefully, as though he were worth something. She holds him the way she speaks to him, and again, he feels that rush of respect.

Only it isn't respect, not anymore. It's something… something else. The respect is still there, certainly, but now there's another feeling added to the mix. He cannot place it, and it worries him.

He knows that she is still angry with him, but when she apologizes for having to place him in a bag, he knows that there is a chance for forgiveness. She is too kind, too thoughtful, to allow hate and anger to fill her with bitterness. Her full heart may be her undoing, but it is also her chance for salvation.

If there is a God, as Elizabeth still clearly believes, then He has allowed her to live for a reason. David is sure that it is because out of all of them, himself included, she is the worthiest, the greatest of them all.

He also knows that he is not going with her on her quest because he is an android and she a human and he must follow her. He is doing this because he wants to. He wants to be with her. He wants to help her, assist her in any way that he can.

He does not dwell upon why. He will have time for that later.

* * *

He was correct about being able to fly the Engineer ship. Once one has realized their methods of mechanics and patterns, any one of their mechanical devices can be easily figured out and controlled. The one problem is finding out where they came from. While it is easy to see where they were headed--Earth--where they were originally from remains shrouded in mystery. Elizabeth sets his head carefully down on the console so that he can examine the data while she gets on her knees to work on repairing his body, preparing it to reattach his head. She follows his instructs in regards to putting him back together, and presses whatever buttons are needed when he wants to view something else in the Engineer database.

Finally, he must admit defeat.

"I cannot discover their point of origin, Elizabeth."

She looks up from where she's reattaching some cables in his neck. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot discover their point of origin," he repeats. "The closest I can get is this solar system, but it will take at least a year to reach it from here, and they could be anywhere within that solar system."

Elizabeth looks at him for a moment. "Set our coordinates for there," she says calmly. She stands up, hand at the ready.

"We might not find anything," he warns her.

"I want to try," she insists.

He tells her what buttons to push. She does so, and then picks him up and carries him gently over to his body.

"Now, about these cables here…" She begins, pointing to something about his anatomy that stumps her.

* * *

It takes about a month, but she eventually gets his head back onto his body. His synthetic skin is self-healing, rather like human skin, in order to deal with minor wounds without sending him back to the factory. Once he's put back together, and with a few ministrations on Elizabeth's part, his skin melds together until you can't even tell he was in two pieces just a couple of hours ago.

She looks pleased with herself, proud to have accomplished something so difficult, and as he stands up and tests his control over his body, she grins in a way that he has not seen since they first entered the Engineer ship.

"You have done an excellent job," he commends her. They've shared many conversations over the past few weeks as she's patched him up, and she knows that this is as close to a jump for joy as she's ever going to get from him.

"I had a good teacher." She shrugs, standing up as well. Her smile has slipped away, and he aches to bring it back. He wants a lot of things, more and more every day, and now it is so great that he literally aches for them. They are all different, but they all center around Elizabeth.

He wonders at that, wonders when he began to take those emotions and feelings and harness them, to focus them upon this one perplexing, intriguing, wonderful woman.

The question plagues him, and he cannot sleep that night. He does not need sleep, in the sense that his body grows tired. However, he does need a few hours of shut down, to keep his mechanical brain from overheating and all the rest. It is not until morning, however, that he gets the answer that has kept him up all night--or the hours that they have regulated as night, anyhow.

It is because Elizabeth comes into what they have decided is the mess hall to eat the breakfast that David has prepared. There is plenty of food in the alien ship, and after examining it he has determined that it's safe to eat. Hence, every morning, he makes her breakfast. He enjoys it.

But that morning Elizabeth comes down in nothing but her underwear. A part of her must have forgotten that he is, anatomically, male, and what with his head being separate from his body for so long, she must have also forgotten that he is now attached to that male body.

She takes one look at him, out of his suit and in his sweats and shirt, and turns right around on her heel. When she returns, she is wearing her own sweats and a t-shirt.

It does little to stop the raging hormones in his body.

He excuses himself a moment later and heads to his personal quarters to sort it all out. He has never had this reaction to a male or female before. He is programmed so that if a human were to initiate romantic relations, he would respond in a human fashion in order to properly serve his creators.

That sentence sounds so wrong in his head.

However, he has never felt such "carnal passions" without being provoked into them. Yet one look at Elizabeth in standard, unimaginative white underwear and he has to leave the room?

He realizes with a jolt that there must be an emotional connection. It is not the body, but whom the body belongs to, that has made his body take initiative. He reflects back on their conversations, discussing every subject known to man (and having their fair share of furious arguments as well). He remembers how gently and carefully she always carried him, and how she patiently put him back together. He recalls that he did not really start to have any emotion worth feeling until he met her.

He is in love with Elizabeth Shaw.

And now he is doomed.

* * *

He spends the next six months trying very hard not to reveal his feelings. It is difficult, but it was either that or seduce her. Given their track record, he is certain that Elizabeth would not only figure out his intentions but also permanently destroy him for it. He realizes that he cares for her too much to hurt her in any way, even if it means that he cannot have her. And so he hides behind his calm façade, as he always has.

They are eating in the mess hall when Elizabeth brings it up. He does not need to eat, but he does on occasion enjoy it, and he knows that Elizabeth likes company in these simple, traditionally communal activities.

"Do you believe in Fate?" She asks him.

He looks at her. "Fate being the idea that we are destined for something and we have no control over it?" He inquires.

Elizabeth nods.

"Well, that question is of little consequence to me. I am fated to serve."

Elizabeth slurps up the noodle-like things in her bowl and frowns at him. "You're not fated to serve anyone. Except perhaps Weyland, but he's dead." She pauses. "I certainly hope you're not serving me."

He senses what she does not say.  _I hope that you're not doing this because you feel that you have to._

"I assure you, Elizabeth, that whatever I do I now do of my own free will."

_I'm with you because I want to be._

Elizabeth relaxes, taking a sip of green liquid that is actually quite refreshing.

"What about your God?" David asks. "Is He not all-powerful? Doesn't He control your actions?"

She sets down the cup. "Some people might believe that," she says quietly, "But I don't. I think that God loves us enough to give us free will--the chance to do what we want. He may guide us or help us in times of need, but He has given us the ability to make of our lives what we will."

He considers that while Elizabeth finishes her meal. "So you are saying," he says slowly, "That no matter what we might have originally been created for," He is referring both to the Engineers and to Weyland, and they both know it, "Our lives are what we make of it?"

Elizabeth nods, happy that he's understood a part of her personal philosophy. "Take yourself, for example," she says. "You're supposed to be an emotionless servant. But you're not. You… well, we did have our differences, and there was a time when I thought I hated you, but… you've changed. I've seen it, David. You've grown. In everything that matters now, I think that you're as human as I am."

David looks at her, searching her face. It is a part of his programming to be able to read human facial expressions, and he knows Elizabeth's face particularly well. There is nothing but open trust and care in her gaze, and he knows that she is reassuring him, telling him that to her, he is human.

"I doubt that I could ever be as human as you are," he says. "You are more human than any other human I've ever met, so I suspect I could not live up to your standards."

Elizabeth laughs, taking him by surprise. Then she takes him by surprise again as she leans across the table and kisses him.

At first, it's nothing more than the simple press of lips against lips. Hers are warm and a bit wet from the broth of the noodles and he is too startled, assaulted by the feel and taste and smell of her to do anything. But then she starts to pull away and he follows her, and her mouth parts just a tiny bit for air and then somehow his tongue is involved and she's warm and wet and oh so good, and tastes like alien food and warmth and humanity and so, so much more.

Somehow they end up standing, and he draws her body against him. She's small and thin, and feels fragile, so he holds her carefully, cradling her with his hands at her lower and upper back. She takes his face in her hands, holding him in place. He knows that it's been a long time for her, that humans have needs and that's why this is escalating so quickly and he hopes that she's doing this because she really cares and not because she just needs to get off.

He wonders, not for the first time, when his world shifted and it all became about her. His programming is such that he wishes to serve humans, but this is more than that. He is sure of it.

Elizabeth seems perfectly happy to pull him down on top of her at the table, but he wants to do this properly. He leads her towards her room, knowing that she will be more comfortable there, and when they reach it he carefully lays her down on the bed.

"I'm not going to break," she assures him, running the back of her hand along his cheek.

"I want to do this properly for you," he says quietly.

Elizabeth stares at him for a long time. "This isn't an apology, David," she whispers. "This is--should be--what we want."

He does want it. In all his experiences with the confusing sensation, he has never wanted anything so much.

Although he takes into consideration her reminder that she is not made of glass, he still goes slowly, taking his time to pleasure her twice before giving into her pleas and entering her. Even then, he makes it tender, careful and deliberate with his actions. He apologizes to her with every movement, promising her things with every kiss.

He's certain that he's not what she needs. He's worried that he will hurt her. He's afraid that she will crumble from the stress of her chosen mission. He is concerned about many, many things, but Elizabeth is happy. She is happy and content and seems to find genuine pleasure and comfort in his presence and this activity and so he gives it to her.

He gives it to her because he wants to.

* * *

"We have to go home."

Elizabeth snorts. He will never tell her that he finds the endearing.

"We don't have our answers, David," she replies, still staring out into the dark, star-filled sky. The balls of fire twinkle back mockingly, full of promises that they never deliver on.

"It's been five years," he gently reminds her. "I cannot discover any other place they have been except for this system, and we have scoured it. Wherever they were before, the location is lost to us."

Elizabeth says nothing, but her shoulders are stiff and her arms are crossed and folded in front of her chest. Her back is to him but he can easily guess at the expression on her face. He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She huffs but leans back into him. She had originally expressed surprise when she found that his body was warm, like a human's, but since he explained that computers and machines get heated from working just like a human body, she has come to often lean into his warmth. He believes that she draws strength from it, seeking heat when surrounded by cold, airless nothing.

"I want answers, David. I need to know."

"This is killing you," he replies calmly. "You need a home, a normal life. You could be doing so many things, Elizabeth, all of them more rewarding and fruitful than this."

She draws in a shaky breath. "But…"

David has discovered that there is only one way to distract Elizabeth, and to guarantee some measure of compliance. He slips a hand down her pants, cupping her gently. She bites her lip before her moan can escape but he feels it anyway. He smiles.

"I don't want you to die out here," he whispers. The hand on her waist slips up underneath her shirt to palm a breast. Her arms unknot themselves to grab at his arms, but she makes no real attempt to stop him. "You deserve so much more than this." He slips a finger inside of her. She grits her teeth, trying to deny the pleasure he's giving her.

"They took so many lives," he continues, beginning to move inside of her. "Don't let them take yours. Live your life. Let go of this."

Elizabeth groans, giving up on hiding the effect he's having on her, letting him work her slowly, languidly. But when he feels her begin to clench involuntarily around him, he stops.

"David," she gasps out.

"Not until you agree," he responds calmly. "We will return to Earth."

She holds out valiantly for two minutes and fifteen seconds before giving out another groan. "Yes," she says, both frustrated and resigned. "Yes, we can go back."

When he finishes her off, she screams his name.

* * *

Everyone thinks he's her son, even though under careful inspection they look nothing alike. Genetics have gone a long way in making old people look young, but Elizabeth knew Weyland and wants none of it. She looks her age, wearing the wrinkles and gray hair as a badge of honor.

No one knows that he is an android. He is known only as "Professor Shaw's son," and that's all they need to know about him. He cares for her tenderly, and although she insists that he go out into the world, do what he wants to do, what he wants to do is be with her and so he stays.

She's head of the university by now, the most celebrated scientist of her day. After the whole debacle with the colony ship, she defends the company employee, Ripley, who had to go through so much. She even provides a character reference when Ripley adopts the little girl she saved. They scour through names but the girl likes Newt, and so Newt Ripley is her name.

They visit, sometimes.

When the day comes, he can sense it. Elizabeth is lying in bed--their bed--and there's a strange peacefulness in her eyes. He comes from the bathroom and sees her gazing out the window and he knows.

He sits at her side, holding her hand.

"I want you to be happy," she instructs him.

He wants to be with her.

"I love you," he responds quietly. "And I'm sorry."

He's sorry for his actions, sorry for making her give up her quest, sorry for not being able to age with her like a human, sorry for not being able to go with her, sorry for so, so many things.

Elizabeth smiles. He's never said those words before, and neither has she. "I love you too," she responds. It's her last gift to him--she who taught him good emotions like honor and courage and kindness, she who gave him a second chance, she who gave him a good life that was as close to a human existence as it is possible for him to achieve.

He touches her cheek, watching, his sensors analyzing every bit of her as she fades away from him. He does not cry because he knows that she does not want him to, but he wants to. He wants a lot of things, but he knows he cannot have them.

Within moments he is touching an empty shell.

The ceremony is simple, quiet, with a few close colleagues attending. Janek had a son, apparently, although the boy's mother was not in the picture, and he comes. Ripley and Newt are there. The university holds a memorial service a few days later. He does not attend.

He takes care of her affairs and then sits, for a long time, in their bed. He does not know what to do, because there is nothing that he  _wants_  to do. Elizabeth taught him that life, emotions, everything, are only what we make of them. But all that he can make of his situation is emptiness and loneliness. Even if he were to get a life, find someone new, he would only lose them as he lost her. He is like the vampires of legend: un-aging, cold, and alone.

Three days later he is at the edge of a waterfall. It is a large, beautiful one, surrounded by stark, gray landscape. It reminds him of the place they found the Engineers. Iceland was aptly named.

The Dettifros Waterfall is a total of 45 meters in height--148 feet--and is the most powerful waterfall in Europe. Between the sheer drop, the rocks at the bottom, and the water, there is no way anyone will survive.

Not even an android. If the fall will not dash him to bits, the water will short-circuit him.

He doubts he has a soul, which he knows from Elizabeth is what you need to get into the afterlife, be it Heaven or Hell. Even if he does, he doesn't think he'd end up in the same place as she does. She is far better than he.

But life is what we make of it, and all that he can make out is a long, unending road of weary loneliness. If he cannot be with her, then he wants to end it all.

And she did teach him what it meant to truly want, after all.

He steps into empty air and lets his body drop.


End file.
